Already Gone
by xJanzx
Summary: Three weeks after Ronnie revealed just how twisted and depraved their father was, how are the sisters dealing with their numerous losses?
1. Chapter 1

**Already Gone**

Roxy watched as her older sister sat at the bar, swathed in darkness and staring into the empty space ahead of her. A full bottle of vodka and an empty glass placed before her. Hearing the soft pad of footsteps, Roxy turned.

"How long she been down 'ere?" Her aunt asked, a weary look upon her tired face.

Roxy lifted her shoulders in a small shrug. "A while, I guess – I woke up and saw the hallway light on."

Peggy nodded before laying a reassuring hand on her niece's arm. "Go talk to her, go on." But Roxy shook her head. "She's your sister."

"That doesn't matter right now."

Peggy frowned. "What's that supposed to mean? 'Ere listen, you've both had a nasty shock finding out who did that to your dad and Ronnie knows you didn't mean to accuse her of it. She knows that and well, honestly – she's forgiven you for worse, so she'll forgive you for that. Talk to her."

Roxy turned away, wrapping her arms around the banister and returning her gaze to Ronnie. She felt Peggy leave, ascending the stairs to her room. But Roxy couldn't move, she couldn't leave that hallway, she couldn't move towards her sister.

_She's like the living dead. . . Sometimes, during the day, she just sits there, silent and staring and nothing and nobody can break her from that trance. And I know that she's thinking and I wish, I __**wish**__ I could snatch those thoughts away. Snatch them away and tear them up so that they couldn't be thought anymore, tear them up into tiny little pieces, so small that they could just disappear. _

_I wish I could take it away. I wish I could take everything away._

Bile rose in the back of Roxy's throat as her stomach turned over, but she forced herself to swallow, to push the burning liquid back down inside herself. She found her feet taking a step forward, and then another and then Roxy was walking into the bar. Walking to Ronnie.

The bar stool made a scraping noise against the floor as Roxy drew it out so she could sit beside her sister. Tentatively, she reached out a warm hand and laid it across one of Ronnie's. "You're freezing," Roxy stated softly, curling her fingers around Ronnie's. But it was as though her sister hadn't heard or felt her.

_I don't know what to do, I don't know how to help her, how to make this better. How can there be anything in the world that makes this better? I had no idea what to do after Danielle and the baby, so what the hell am I meant to do now?_

"Ron," She whispered, as though not daring to raise her voice any louder.

"I'm tired," Ronnie stated, still staring at the bottle of vodka and refusing to look at her younger sister.

"Then why aren't you sleeping?" Roxy pressed gently. She squeezed Ronnie's fingers, trying to convey that she was there and that she would be there from now on.

"I . . . can't."

Roxy nodded, her lips pressed together tightly so that nothing could spill out of her. "You need to see someone, Ron, someone . . . professional."

Ronnie's body visibly stiffened and she pulled her hand away from her sister's. She stepped down from the bar stool and made her way over to the red double doors.

"Ron – where're you goin'?"

"I need some air-"

"No, you need to stay here, Ronnie. Ronnie, it's four in the morning!" Roxy exclaimed, jumping down and following her sister out into the darkened Square. She shivered as the biting cold March air licked her skin, acutely aware of the fact that Ronnie hadn't even flinched. "Ronnie, you need to talk about this."

"No, no, I don't."

"You're having nightmares, Ron. I've heard you, up every few hours – it's like, it's like you can't get any peace . . ."

Ronnie stopped walking, stopped dead in her tracks, Roxy's words seeping into her body. Every night she'd lay awake, too terrified to close her eyes. And then exhaustion would sweep over her and her mind would go blank, allowing her relief for the briefest of moments.

But then she would see his face.

And the weight of everything she knew would press down on her until she couldn't breathe.

"Ronnie, please," Roxy begged. "Please let someone help you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: The bits in italics are either thoughts or memories.**

Roxy stood at the living room window of the Vic, her ice blue eyes looking out into the dark Square for Ronnie. She could see her sitting on the bench, her shoulders hunched over as though she was protecting herself from the cold wind.

Hot tears sprang to the corners of her eyes, but Roxy pressed the lids tightly together, refusing to let them fall. But it didn't matter what she didn't want, they fell anyway.

_Nothing matters, bad things will happen anyway._ She thought bitterly, furiously wiping away her tears. Her gaze fell on the now empty billboard that had housed her father's portrait and the immediate space below it.

That was where it had happened. Where she had told.

"_He raped Stacey Slater."_

That was what Ronnie had said.

"_He raped her."_

The words had winded Roxy, left her with no feeling left in her limbs. She had wanted to fall to the ground or launch herself at Ronnie, to hit and slap until she could force those words back into her sister's mouth.

"_No, Ronnie – come __**on**__! Dad would never do that!" Roxy paced back and forth across the pavement, hands on her hips and shaking her head. It wasn't true and she wouldn't believe it. And there was no way in hell she would let Ronnie leave that conversation believing it. "He wouldn't."_

"_Have you learnt __**nothing**__ after the last few years?!" Ronnie exclaimed, an edge of disgust in her voice. "That man was capable of anything, okay. He was a very, very sick man-"_

"_No! No – is that why you put him outta his misery?!"_

_Ronnie scoffed, an expression of anger and hurt marring her delicate features. "That's right, that's right. I topped him and now I'm going to dance on his grave!"_

_Ronnie went to leave, but Roxy grabbed her arm, dragging her back into the conversation. "Don't you walk away from me! Tell me the truth, alright?"_

"_I just did but you're too __**stupid**__ to believe it!" Ronnie yelled, almost defeated by Roxy's constant defence of their father. _

"_How can you be so sure?" She asked, still shaking her head, the tears pouring freely down her cheeks. A beat of silence filled the air between them. "How can you be so sure?!" She repeated the question, almost shouting in Ronnie's face._

"_Because he's done it before."_

_It came out a whisper, any quieter and it might not have been heard. But Roxy had. She'd heard it and now even Ronnie knew it was too late to take anything back. She looked at her younger sister with an almost terrified look in her eyes before turning and running through the alleyway._

Roxy's body trembled as she tried to keep her sobs from erupting. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest and she bit into the side of her mouth to keep her lips from separating, to keep a cry from being voiced. Her fingernails dug into her mouth, tiny darts of pain shooting through the nerve endings, but she didn't stop. She had to stay silent, she couldn't cry and she couldn't say anything.

_Just like Ronnie._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: This part is a memory**

_Roxy ran through the alleyway, her heels clattering noisily against the paving stones. She tried to run faster, to catch up with Ronnie but the shock of her sister's words had momentarily paralysed her and for those few minutes, Roxy had stood beneath her father's portrait and stared up into his face._

_But now she ran._

_"Ronnie?!" She called out as she flung herself through the back door of the Vic and flew up the stairs. She heard the running of water and rushed to the bathroom. Red swirled in the water that had filled the basin and she immediately clutched hold of the red streaked hand towel. _

_Paint. It was just the paint._

_Turning off the taps, Roxy softly treaded to Ronnie's room, slipping inside silently. "Ron?" She asked. Her sister was sitting in front of the dressing table mirror, staring into her reflection. "Ronnie?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_Roxy gingerly approached her, sitting down on the bed behind her sister. "What did you mean . . . before?" Their eyes locked in the mirror for a brief moment before Ronnie dragged her glance away. _

_"Nothing," Ronnie replied, shaking her head._

_"You're lying!" Roxy exclaimed, jumping up from the bed and thrusting herself towards Ronnie. "What did you mean he did it before? To who?" She grabbed hold of her sister's arms, her slim fingers digging into the soft flesh._

_"Roxy, let go!"_

_"No! What did you mean?! Who has he done it before to? Someone you knew? A friend of mum's? WHO?!"_

_"Yes, them. He did it to them!" Ronnie shouted quickly, twisting and turning her body in an attempt to get away from Roxy. "Now, let go! Let go of me, Roxy. Let me GO!"_

_"Who?! Who is 'them'?! Give me a name Ronnie!" Roxy demanded, her grip on her sister's arm getting ever tighter. The look of terror flashed through Ronnie's eyes once again and for a fraction of a second, she stopped fighting. "You're lying, aren't you?" Roxy whispered, the droplets of tears that had been clinging to her lashes now trickled down her cheeks. "Ron, who was it?" She let go of Ronnie's arm, instead her hands clutched both sides of her sister's face, forcing Ronnie to look her in the eyes. "Ronnie, who did he do it to?"_

_Suddenly, tears sprang to Ronnie's eyes. She could feel them welling in her eyelids, but she couldn't stop them and she couldn't bring up a hand to wipe them away. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak. She couldn't do anything._

_Ronnie heard Roxy's deep, rattling intake of breath. She felt her sister's hands drop from her face and then saw her staggering out of the room, before the sound of retching filled the silence. _

_"Me," she whispered into the empty room. "It was me."_


	4. Chapter 4

**The bits in italics are either memories or thoughts and I'd just like to thank everyone for reading and replying, I really appreciate your comments**

Ronnie sat on Arthur's Bench, her eyes staring into the darkness around her. She felt the biting March air crash over her, but it didn't bother her. She'd been sitting there for an hour and a distant voice in her mind told her that she should be cold, that the temperature should be hurting her by now. But she was already too hurt for anything else to get through.

_Why did Stacey's friend have to tell me? If she hadn't, I wouldn't have to think about . . . I wouldn't have told Roxy and I wouldn't need to convince her it was true . . . _

_Why did that stupid girl have to come upstairs?_

Ronnie closed her eyes, hoping the darkness would envelope her mind in its cold embrace. She felt an icy wind swirling around her, whipping at her pale cheeks, but she made no move to get up, to retreat to the warmth.

_I need to feel the cold. It makes it better._

She opened her eyes and turned, feeling someone's gaze upon her, expecting to see Roxy standing by the iron railings, ready to try and coax her back to the Vic. But it wasn't Roxy that was stood there. It was someone else. Someone she hadn't seen or spoken to in weeks.

"Jack," Ronnie stated softly, her breaths coming out as faint wisps as it hit the air around her.

Jack's eyes flickered to her for a moment, brown locked on blue. And then he spoke. "It's cold out – you don't even have a jacket."

"Is the weather what we're really going to talk about?"

He sat down beside her. "Yes."

"I didn't come and see you," Ronnie said. "I'm sorry." Jack sighed and shrugged. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I just . . . "

Jack shook his head. "I'm here for you, Ron. I'm always here for you . . . but you've never been there for me. I'm here and you . . . never are." He looked at her, a wealth of sorrow written across his face, so much that Ronnie felt another crack emerge in her heart.

"Broken, remember? Damaged goods," she said softly. There was no accusation to her voice, no anger; it was just a statement. A true statement.

"I never meant that, Ron. I was hurt and angry and Bradley had just-" Jack sucked in a sharp breath. Even now, three weeks on, he still couldn't say that word.

Ronnie's hair swished around her shoulders as she shook her head. "Doesn't matter how it was said if it's true." She paused momentarily. "You should get back inside, it's cold out."

"So should you."

Jack's heart constricted in agony as he thought of everything Ronnie had been through, everything he had done to her. He wanted to reach out and lay a hand on hers, to gently curl his fingers around hers and lead her inside. He desperately wanted to take her home. But too much had happened between them, too much had been said and done. And now, now it seemed too late.

"I'll be fine - I'm used to the cold."

"You shouldn't have to be."


	5. Chapter 5

**Feel free to babble hun - I really enjoy reading your thoughts on the characters. I find myself always analysing their words and behaviour on the show (it's the psychologist in me, lol), but then I kinda throw caution to the wind with these fics, so hopefully I'm writing them true to character **

Ronnie inwardly sighed, closing her eyes for a fraction of a second before snapping them open again. She didn't want to see that right now.

Jack remained seated, not attempting to leave her. _He's right, he's always there for me. Always. And I've never been that to him. I've never stuck around long enough to help him._

"What're you doin' out here?" She heard him ask.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Why?" Ronnie shrugged, shifting her body so that she could look at Jack. "Roxy's been at that window for an hour," he told her, jerking his head in the direction of the Vic.

"Yeah," she breathed, not answering the implicit question that had laced his words. A still silence spread itself between the two ex-lovers like an unwanted presence. "I did come to see you after . . ." Ronnie suddenly blurted out.

"What?" Jack asked, surprised by her sudden admission.

"I er, after what happened in the Vic . . .with Max, I er went over to yours." She shook her head. "You weren't home . . ."

"You didn't knock."

Ronnie frowned, her brows knitting together. "How did you-?"

"I was in. . . I saw you standing there, debating with yourself whether or not to knock on the door and I . . . I wanted you to, but I wanted you to want that too."

The loss in Jack's voice cut through Ronnie's chest, tearing at her already shredded heart. Every time she breathed it was as though someone would take a cheese grater to her heart and sear through the flesh.

"I don't know why I couldn't . . ." She answered honestly, more honest than she'd ever been with him before.

Jack nodded his head. _I do. I know. I know that I really hurt you when I said those things, and after what happened in the Vic, you were too wounded to deal with anyone else's pain but your own. You tried, sweetheart. I just . . . I wish you'd try harder._

Ronnie pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, her fingers kneading the skin, suddenly feeling lightheaded. For the past three weeks she had craved Jack's company, her body aching to just be next to him and now . . . now all she wanted to do was run. Her breathing became shallow and shaky.

"Ron? You okay?" Immediately she nodded. A frustrated sigh hissed from between Jack's parted lips. "Why won't you let anyone ever help you?"

Ronnie sucked in a lungful of air. "Because nobody can."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: The big chunk in italics is a memory**

The pain in her words made Jack want to wrap her in his arms and pull her close to him, to warm her frozen form with his. But he didn't. He didn't move. Because he knew that that gesture wouldn't help her. At least not right now.

_She's somewhere else. Somewhere I can't reach right now._

Jack looked at Ronnie, watching the way her lips were pressed tightly together; as though keeping all of her secrets locked inside and if she were to ever part them they would all come spilling out. She turned to him and their eyes caught for the briefest of moments. Jack felt his heart leap into his throat, almost choking him. There was something there, something behind the blue that he'd never seen before. And he had memorised those eyes, knew every speck of colour that flecked the iris', and he knew there was something different there now.

"How's Max?" Ronnie asked, even as though the words slipped out of her mouth she knew how inane her question sounded. Jack shrugged in reply. "Yeah," she breathed, knowing all too well the familiar feeling of loss.

"He won't leave the house. Carol, she's er, she's looking after him." He paused for a moment, unsure whether he was ready to voice the question that had been on his lips for the past three weeks. "Will you go and see him?"

Ronnie frowned, bemused by Jack's request. "Me? Why?"

Jack lowered his eyes, focusing on his gloved hands.

They both knew why.

_Max stood at the bar in the Vic, clutching hold of the glass of whisky he'd been nursing for the past half hour. The atmosphere was subdued, like someone had blanketed the pub with a blanket that had muffled all the sound. _

_People had come up to him, offering kind words and their condolences, but Max would rather they stayed away. He didn't need those things, words and kindness. He needed his son. And no amount of "I'm sorry's" would ever give him that._

_He brought the glass to his lip before throwing the contents to the back of his throat, so used to the burning sensation, he didn't flinch. He placed the glass back down on the bar top and pushed it away from himself. "Stick another one in there, will yer Ron?"_

_Wordlessly, Ronnie took the glass and refilled it before gently placing in front of Max. He looked into the depths of the drink, his eyes searching out the answer he desperately needed. A noiseless sigh slithered from between his lips. Max closed his eyes, trying to make everything around him fall away, forcing himself to go back to Bradley's wedding day. Back to the day that had changed the course of his little boy's life._

_"I can't cry," Max breathed._

_"I know," Ronnie whispered._

_"Do yer?" He answered automatically before opening his eyes. Ronnie had been watching him all that time. He looked into her face and saw his loss reflected in her blue eyes. "I didn't mean . . . Everyone keeps saying that, and how they understand, but they don't . . . "_

_"No," She agreed. "They don't."_


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Italics are either memories or thoughts**

"I'm sorry," Jack breathed, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between the two ex-lovers.

"Why?" Ronnie asked, turning her head so that she was looking at him.

Jack lifted his shoulders in a small shrug. "I just . . . am."

Ronnie nodded in reply, facing forwards once again. She felt Jack reach for her freezing hand, attempting to warm it in his own. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Jack clasping Ronnie's hand between his own. But the action was too much for Ronnie, the sense of love emanating from Jack overwhelming her until she felt like she was drowning in it. Slowly, she pulled her hand away; her heart battling with itself as she did so.

Jack looked at her, the hurt evident in his face. But he didn't question it, he didn't push her for an explanation. He just watched her as she attempted to bury her emotions under another layer of abrasiveness and coldness.

_"Veronica . . . I'm sorry."_

The image of the life leaving her father's body swept through Ronnie's mind. The look on his face; an expression of surprise, as though he couldn't quite believe that this was the end, that it had ended like that.

"_Veronica . . . I'm sorry."_

"Everyone's sorry, but nobody's saying what they're sorry for," Ronnie whispered.

"What?" Jack asked, confused by her statement.

She shook her head, wisps of blonde hair falling out of her loose ponytail. "It doesn't matter."

Jack watched her, engulfed by anguish and shrouded in a sorrow that seemed impenetrable. _Except I did it once, didn't I? We were engaged, happy. And if I had just kept my mouth shut, if I'd just gone along with things like I didn't with Selena and Tanya, maybe she wouldn't be here now. Maybe neither of us would. And maybe Bradley . . . _

"It does, Ronnie. It matters . . . what we say, what we do . . . it matters." Jack felt a painful lump form in his throat, but he swallowed it, pushing it down into the pit of his stomach so he could function for the time being before dealing with it later.

_I'm exactly like her, aren't I?_ He thought wryly. _Pushing things down, burying 'em, so I can deal with them later. Except we never do, do we?_

Jack looked up as he felt Ronnie move away from him. She was standing beside him, a strange expression on her face. "I'm going now, Jack," she told him.

He nodded before standing up as well. They looked into each other's faces before Ronnie slowly leant in and placed a delicate kiss at the corner of Jack's mouth. Her hand fell to his and her freezing fingers squeezed his tightly for a fleeting moment.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Jack murmured as they both drew away from each other.

The corners of Ronnie's lips curved into a small smile. "Bye."


	8. Chapter 8

Ronnie stood in the bathroom, her hands gripping onto the sides of the porcelain basin, her eyes staring into her reflection in the mirror. She didn't blink, she didn't move, she just looked.

_Can they see it? When they look at me, can they see it too? Can I see it? If I was just a stranger on the street and I saw me, would I be able to see what I know? Is it written on my face? Or anywhere else? Is it?_

Ronnie sucked in a sharp breath, only realising at the moment she began to feel dizzy that she hadn't been breathing.

_One of the most basic functions and I can't even do that._

_'Damaged' has never before been so fitting._

She blinked, her mind engulfed in darkness for the briefest of moments, before the harsh light that filled the bathroom took it's place.

_Max banged his empty glass down on the bar. "Stick another one in there, will yer?" He asked, slurring his words as he pushed the glass towards Ronnie._

_"Don't you think you've had enough?" She asked, her voice soft, concerned._

_"No," Max replied, bluntly._

_Ronnie didn't move._

_"Max, this isn't going to help-"_

_"How d'you do it, eh?" He asked, his voice laced with a bitter venom Ronnie hadn't heard before. "How do you wake up every morning and work here when your daughter is dead?" The atmosphere in the pub shifted, an uncomfortable silence blanketing the punters._

_Ronnie could feel the dozens of pairs of eyes upon the two of them, she could feel them watching their every move, listening intently to what was being said._

_"Tell me, Ron. I need to know," Max begged her. His hand shot out and grabbed the one she had placed on the bar, gripping it tightly. Ronnie looked down at the physical contact, unsure of what to do. Her instinct had been to pull away, to remove the emotional intrusion, but she couldn't. For some reason, she couldn't do it. "When does it stop? When does the guilt stop?"_

_"Guilt?" Ronnie asked, her voice barely a whisper, not trusting herself to speak any louder._

_"I had an affair with my son's wife, you threw your daughter out of here. You called her crazy and rejected her. I hurt my son, you gave your daughter away. When does the guilt stop?"_

_Ronnie shook her head, twisting her hand beneath Max's, trying to pull away from him, but he just held on tighter. His fingers digging into her skin and refusing to relinquish his hold over her._

_"Stop it!" She demanded._

_"You did though, didn't yer? You threw her outta here like she was nothing, telling her that she wasn't yours. And I screwed up my son's marriage. If it wasn't for me, they would've had years and Bradley would've been able to hold his first born. We both hurt our kids, Ronnie and we both lost them. So come on, gimme a time frame – tell me when it stops."_

_Ronnie shook her head once more. She wanted so desperately to cover her ears, to not listen to Max's words. Her skin crawled with them, the sounds wheedling into her mind until all she could hear was the echoes of them._

_"You lost a child, tell me when it stops feeling like this. Come on, tell me!"_

_"No!"_

_"Tell me!"_

_"No, I will not use my daughter's memory to-"_

_"Don't give me that – I just want someone to answer the question. When does it stop hurting?!" Max yelled, losing what little composure he had left. The open palm of his free hand connected with the varnished bar top, making everyone in the room visibly flinch._

_Ronnie looked down at their hands, Max still gripping onto hers as though she was tethering him. But to what? What was she tethering him to? Sanity? Grief? Mourning? How could she possibly be someone to hold onto when she was free falling?_

_Without looking up, she answered his question. "It doesn't."_

Ronnie blinked, the memory dissipating. She felt the warmth seep down her as the red ribbons swirled across the bowl of the basin.

"It doesn't."


	9. Chapter 9

Ronnie lay on the bathroom floor, staring up at the ceiling. _If I don't move, if I stay like this forever, nothing can touch me. Nothing can hurt me anymore._

Her body felt drained, her bones aching, her muscles sore. Even the marrow of her bones wanting nothing more than to sleep.

Forget and sleep.

"Yeah," Ronnie muttered to herself. "Sleep."

That's all she wanted to do. Sleep.

But she couldn't close her eyes. She knew what she'd see if she did.

Ronnie felt her chest move up and down with each intake of breath, could see the motion becoming steadily slower, the breaths becoming longer and deeper.

Was she falling asleep?

"Please," Ronnie whispered, pleading. "Let me sleep."

_"Ronnie?" Roxy called out to her. She'd come back into her sister's bedroom to find Ronnie lying across the bed, her face buried in a pillow. Roxy sat down on the edge of the bed, within arm's reach of her sister._

_She didn't want to be any nearer._

_Not just yet._

_"Ron?" Roxy uttered her name once again. She wanted to reach out, to rouse her, to touch her sister's form._

_But what if Ronnie didn't want that?_

_What then?_

_With shaking legs, Roxy lifted herself from the bed and began to move towards the door._

_"I'm awake," Ronnie whispered, drawing her sister back into the room. "I'm sorry," she told her, her words being said into the pillow she hugged to her._

_Roxy felt her heart break beneath her chest, the shards of glass embedding themselves into every single part of her soul. Everything was falling apart. Everything she knew and believed to be true, it wasn't. The very foundations of her world had shattered and everything she knew had come tumbling down upon her._

_"I'm so sorry, Roxy," Ronnie repeated, her sobs restricting her breathing._

_"Why?" Roxy asked, her bottom lip trembling as she watched her older sister crying her heart out._

_"Because I let him."_


	10. Chapter 10

Ronnie felt the hardness of the floor push up against her back, every second that passed making it more and more uncomfortable. But still she didn't move. Her eyes unfocused and unblinking. Her chest almost still.

_"What?" Roxy uttered, drawing closer to the older sister._

_"I'm so sorry," Ronnie whispered, bringing her legs up to her chest and curling her body into a tight ball. "I'm sorry."_

_"Why are you apologising?" Roxy asked. She saw the way Ronnie had recoiled from her reach and she knew that there was no doubt about what had happened. He had done it. He had done that to her sister. Her **sister**. His **daughter**._

_Roxy felt the familiar urge to gag, but she fought it down, refusing to leave Ronnie alone. Not now. Not like this._

_"I should have fought harder," Ronnie stated, her voice muffled by the pillow she held onto, as though it was her lifeline, the only thing keeping her from spiralling into a pit of misery._

_"Ronnie, no," Roxy whispered, reaching out a hand and gently touching her sister's shoulder. Ronnie flinched at the contact, her body almost shuddering with the aftershock of Roxy's touch. Roxy withdrew her hand, placing it on the duvet instead. She gulped back the lump in her throat, the one that had been formed of terror and anguish. "When?" She asked. "When did it happen?"_

_Ronnie shook her head. "I . . . I don't remember."_

_"Yes, you do," her younger sister pressed._

_Even though Roxy's words were barely audible, Ronnie's heart quivered with fear, as though someone had screamed inside her and it was deafening. It was all she could hear and feel, the fear and the shock of that scream. Or was that her? Was she one that was screaming? Was that why she was the only person who could hear it?_

_"Old enough."_

_Roxy sucked in a sharp breath, Ronnie's words slashing across her skin like knives of ice. "No. No," she insisted. "You were a **child**, Ronnie; a little girl and he-" She stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth, as though that would somehow stop the sobs from spilling out. "And he hurt you," she wept. "He hurt you."_

_Roxy looked down, feeling movement. Ronnie's hand had crept towards hers, seeking it out, her fingers curling around her sister's._

_"Roxy?" Ronnie murmured. Instantly, Roxy silenced her cries, her breath catching in her throat as she listened intently. "I can't breathe. . . I can't breathe anymore."_

"Ronnie?" Roxy called through the bathroom door, twisting the handle and pushing it open. Her body froze at the sight that greeted her. "Ronnie?" She whimpered, her legs buckling, unable to support her weight any longer.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: The parts in italics are either thoughts or memories **

Roxy dropped to the floor, her hands clamping down on Ronnie's arms, trying to staunch the flow of blood that steadily trickled down them. "Oh god, Ronnie! Oh god – what've you done? What have you done? Ronnie, Ronnie please," she wept, her tears almost drowning her words.

Roxy's voice sounded so far away, as though part of someone else's world. Ronnie tried to turn her head, but every part of her felt so heavy, she couldn't move. Something was holding onto her, pressing down on her, adding to the weight of her limbs. She didn't want to move anymore.

_The sisters lay on Ronnie's bed, Ronnie curled up at the foot and Roxy lying rigidly against the pillows at the top. It had been almost an hour since they had spoken. All that could be heard was the steady sound of each other's breathing._

_The air was tense, laden with so many unanswered questions, things that needed to be said, needed to be spoken aloud before they could be buried._

_Roxy closed her eyes, a lone tear slipping down her cheek. She sniffed before hastily wiping it away._

_"Don't cry," Ronnie's voice filtered through the heavy atmosphere._

_"I should be saying that to you."_

_"Why?"_

_Roxy sat up, her eyes glancing over Ronnie's form momentarily. Were they going to do this? Were they going to pretend that nothing had happened? That they'd just come upstairs to trade lipgloss and gossip and not the buried secrets of over twenty years ago? Were they really going to do that?_

_"You know why, Ron."_

_"I'm fine," she said, instantly._

_"No, you're not."_

_"I am," Ronnie insisted._

_"Then why can't you look at him? Why the red paint? Why is he still tormenting you even though he's dead?" An emotion that Roxy couldn't recognise flashed through her in that moment. Her father was dead, he was dead and he would never be held accountable for what he had done to Ronnie. He would never realise the consequences of his actions. He would never pay for them._

_'He paid with his life though. . . No, he didn't. He didn't.'_

_The sound of sirens pierced through the silence, jolting Ronnie out of her catatonic state. Her breaths came in gasps as her body lurched towards the window. She frowned, unable to comprehend what was going on._

_'Why is Bradley on the roof?'_


	12. Chapter 12

"Roxy?" Ronnie's voice was barely audible, like a breeze on a summer's day that rippled through the air; you could almost feel it on your warm skin, but it was gone before contact could be made.

"Ronnie? It's okay, it's okay, it's gonna be okay. Phil! Aunty Peg! Phil! Somebody! Call an ambulance!" Roxy screamed, her fingers tightly clasped around Ronnie's wrist. Tears poured down her cheeks as she wept, her body rigid and set even as she felt the steady stream of blood pulse from her sister's arms.

"What's all the shoutin' for?" Phil asked, coming out of his room bleary eyed and confused. "Roxy – what're you doing-"

"For fuck's sake, Phil – just call the fucking ambulance!" Roxy growled, turning her head to shout at her cousin. As she did so, her right hand slipped from Ronnie's left wrist, blood dully spurted from it. "Oh god," Roxy whimpered, pressing down even harder on Ronnie's arms.

"What's she done?" Phil asked, his eyes wide with shock. "What's she done to herself?"

"Just call the **fucking** ambulance!" Roxy hollered, prompting Phil to back away from the bathroom and hurry down the stairs to the phone in the hallway.

"No, no," Ronnie moaned, her voice weak, the energy seeping from her with each drop of blood.

"Ron, don't try and talk, okay. Phil's calling the ambulance and everything's going to be okay, okay?" Roxy tried to reassure her, her voice frantic with terror.

"'Ere, what's going on? It's five in the morning, you'll wake Ben- Ronnie?"

"Aunty Peg, not now, can you just-"

"What's happened? Who did this? Who did this to her?" Peggy demanded, standing in the doorway of the bathroom, one hand clutching her throat, the other holding tightly onto the doorframe; almost as though everything would slip away if she didn't hold on to them.

Roxy looked at her aunt, the tears welling in her eyes once again. She shook her head. "Nobody. Nobody did this to her."

"What?" Peggy asked, a mask of horror edging onto her face. "What does that mean?"

Roxy's bottom lip trembled as another cry fell from her lips. "She did it herself."

"Roxy?" Ronnie mumbled, too weak now to even turn her head.

"Ronnie, just hold on, okay? The ambulance is coming and we're gonna get you sorted out and well-"

"No."

"What, Ron? I can't, I can't hear you-"

"Let me go. Please, let go."


	13. Chapter 13

Jack walked the familiar path through the cemetery, his hands deep in the pockets of his black coat, the collar of it up to protect his face from the biting wind; the one that made tears spring to his eyes. The one that he could no longer feel on his skin.

There was no headstone marking who lay beneath the soil, the earth hadn't settled yet. The headstone would come in time. _Another seven months._

_[i]Will those seven go like the last one? Waking up each morning thinking that nothing has changed and then remembering what we saw wasn't a dream? And then you're running to the bathroom to be sick?_

_Will every day of those seven months start like that?_

Jack closed his eyes, his body shivering with emotion, as the memories flooded his mind. He tried to shut them out, to push them away to the edges, but they were relentless in their pursuit to make him crumble.

"_He's dead," Jack whispered, staring at his blood stained hands. They trembled. He looked up from them, meeting Ronnie's eyes across the Square. "Bradley's dead." The words sounded strange, as though they should never be uttered beside each other. _

_People were moving around him, cordoning off the area. _

_Where had Max gone? And Stacey? Where did they go? He couldn't see them._

_Jack whipped around, his eyes darting from face to face looking for the people that loved his nephew. _

'_Where are they? Where did they go?'_

"_Jack?"_

_He felt a hand rest on his arm, but he instantly shrugged it off, not even looking to see who it belonged to. "I need to find Max, and Stacey," he stated, his voice laced with panic. "I need to find them!"_

"_Okay, okay," Ronnie told him. "I'll help you, we'll go look here, okay?" She said, placing a hand on his and gently leading him towards the Vic.[/i]_

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memory out of his mind. Earlier that evening, he had lied to her. He had told her that she had never been there for him. But she had, of course she had. She had been there when Selena took Penny away, when everything had fallen apart with Tanya, when Bradley had . . .

She had been there.

Jack turned at the sound of metal scraping against stone, he frowned in confusion.

"Roxy?"


	14. Chapter 14

Roxy marched across the soil of the graveyard, her hands shaking from the tight grip she had around the handle of a spade she had picked up by a freshly dug grave plot. Her Ugg boots stamped into the dry earth, pushing her fury into it with every step she took.

She stopped in front of a headstone, her ice blue eyes focusing on the words that were engraved into the granite. _Beloved father and grandfather._

Her stomach turned and the acrid taste of bile filled her mouth. Roxy pushed it down, refusing to feel that way. To let him win.

"I paid extra to have this put up sooner," she said to herself. "I didn't want him to go unnoticed."

The anger wove around Roxy's small body, it's grip becoming tighter and tighter around her chest, her throat. Her fingers curled around the handle of the spade and before she knew what she was doing, she had raised the tool above her head like a weapon and brought it down on the headstone.

Metal scraped against stone, the noise reverberating through the empty cemetery. Roxy could feel it in her arms, the sound of slicing granite seeping into her skin. "You BASTARD!" She screamed, her voice fuelled by a hatred so deep it penetrated the very core of her being.

"You did this! **You** did this to her!"

_"Roxy," Ronnie called out to her younger sister, her voice hollow and weak. "Please, Rox."_

_"No!" Roxy replied, adamantly. She bit into her bottom lip, attempting to stop it trembling. She looked around herself at the whitewashed walls, the stench of disinfectant burning the lining of her nose._

_The ambulance ride had been torturously slow, even if the journey to Walford General Hospital had taken less than five minutes. And now . . . here they were. In a side room with Ronnie hooked up to various drips, IV's pumping blood and saline into her frail body. _

_"It hurts," Ronnie whimpered, the fragility of her voice forcing Roxy to turn and look at her._

_She reached out a hand and gently pushed back the hair from Ronnie's face, like she would do to Amy at times. "I know," Roxy whispered, unshed tears making her voice thick and heavy. She blinked, trying to make the tears that lined her eyes dissipate with the movement. She couldn't do this, not now. Not when Ronnie needed her._

_"I can't breathe, Rox."_

_"Yeah, severe blood loss will do that to you," Roxy replied, her voice soft and tender even if the despair behind it was all too palpable._

_"No, you don't understand. . . I can't breathe anymore."_

_Roxy felt something within her begin to shudder. Was it what Ronnie had said or the way her older sister was looking up at her? Like there was this hole that she was falling in to, and nobody and nothing could break her fall, nothing could pull her out of it, nobody could bring her to safety. _

_"You should've let me go."_

Roxy brought the spade down on the headstone over and over again, even when her arms ached with the weight of it, she refused to stop; willing herself to continue inflicting destruction upon the man that had destroyed her big sister. Who continued to destroy her.

"Wasn't taking Amy enough? Wasn't Danielle _enough_? And the baby? Weren't they enough? You did this! Because of you, Ronnie's like that! I hope you can hear this, I hope you can hear this and I hope you never get peace. I want you to burn, I want you to hurt more than anyone has ever before, I want you to hurt a thousand times more than what you've done to her!"

Her shrieks were ripped from her throat, leaving it raw. Her chest heaved from the exertion and out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone she hadn't expected.

"Jack," Roxy stated, visibly shaken.

"What's happened, Roxy? What did you mean about what he's done to her? Danielle and the baby? What else?" Everything about his demeanour was panicked, anxious . . . terrified. Jack looked around himself, his eyes darting to the different areas of the graveyard . . . looking for her. "Where is she? Where's Ron? Roxy, where is she? Is-is she okay?"

Roxy looked at him. The man that had made Ronnie happier than she had ever known her sister to be. The same man that had shattered her heart with one small confession. What was she meant to say to him?

"Roxy, tell me! I love her!"

"No! **I** love her! I love her!"


	15. Chapter 15

Roxy sat in the corridor outside of Ronnie's room, the plastic chair she was sitting on hard and uncomfortable, but she couldn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything right now. All that she was aware of was that Jack was inside that room, Jack was sitting beside Ronnie's bed, holding her hand and waiting for her to wake up.

They had arrived an hour ago, an hour of utter silence and nothing but emptiness passing between them. They had simply existed in the same space for the few minutes that Jack had taken to drive to Walford General, with Roxy not saying a word about why her sister was there in the first place.

Roxy closed her eyes, trying to shut down the memories that seemed to embrace her mind with the echoes of a time that revisiting only served to rip her heart to pieces.

_Ronnie sat on the staircase of the Vic, her legs crumpled beneath her and her body limp. She looked down at the black dress she was wearing, a reminder of what that day had represented. Bradley's funeral._

_"What're you doing?"_

_She looked up to see Roxy stood at the banister, watching her._

_"Nothing, I just . . . nothing."_

_"You went to the funeral?"_

_Ronnie nodded._

_"He killed our dad, Ron-"_

_Ronnie looked away, she couldn't hear this. Not now, not ever. And not from Roxy._

_She didn't say anything, her silence communicating the words that were screaming in her mind clearly enough._

_Roxy sighed and sat down next to her sister, but Ronnie visibly flinched, uncomfortable with the sudden intrusion of her personal space. Immediately, she stood up; unable to bear the presence of someone else next to her._

_Her younger sister grabbed hold of her hand, but Ronnie shook it away, the touch feeling as though it was scalding it. She couldn't bear it. _

_Refusing to acknowledge the hurt expression on Roxy's face, Ronnie turned away from her and walked towards the cellar door. "I'm er, I'm going to get some air."_

_Roxy called after her, following Ronnie, watching as she slipped through the alleyway and out into the dark Square. She watched as Ronnie passed through the centre of it, one hand clinging onto the black railings, as though they were a life line, the only thing keeping her anchored to that moment. And then Ronnie had frozen almost, her body rigid. She had turned her face upwards, looking at something before making her way to the bench that sat pride of place in the Square gardens, unmoving, unchanging – no matter what happened, that bench would always remain. _

_Roxy swallowed the lump that was in her throat, pushing down the urge to call out once again to her older sister, wishing that somehow her words could reach Ronnie, wishing that they could bring her big sister back, home again at last._

_Turning her back on Ronnie, she retreated to the warmth of the Vic, hoping and praying that her sister would soon do the same._


	16. Chapter 16

Jack folded his hand over Ronnie's, letting her know that he was there. For her. Whenever she was ready. He was there.

_How many more times am I going to see you in a hospital bed, darling? How many more times?_

He looked away from her face, knowing that she wasn't sleeping, she was just lying in the hospital bed with her eyes shut. She wasn't sleeping, she was pretending she wasn't there. Exactly what she was pretending, Jack had no clue.

When did he ever when it came to Ronnie?

His eyes cast over her bandaged wrists and immediately he turned away, physically twisting his body so that he wouldn't have to see.

_That's you all over, isn't it? Turning away so you don't have to see, to deal with it. You knew this could happen – didn't Amy's christening show you that? There were pills, tons of 'em, all over her bedroom floor. You **knew** it, but still you pretended it away. Didn't confront her, didn't talk to her, didn't ask for her to get help. _

_And now look._

_Look at what's happened._

Jack's resolve hardened as he forced himself to look at Ronnie, to really look at her and see everything he had been ignoring for the past year. Her skin was pale, thin even, the loss of blood contributing greatly to her appearance. But it couldn't all be down to that.

No, the devastation on her face wasn't the result of blood loss.

This was something else. Something only Ronnie knew.

Getting up from his seat and standing by the head of her hospital bed, Jack tentatively ran his fingers across the curve of Ronnie's cheek. "What is it, darling?" He whispered. "What is it that's haunting you?"

Jack could feel the hot, angry tears brimming his eyelids, threatening to slip down his face. "I am so sorry," he murmured as he pressed his lips to Ronnie's forehead. "I am so sorry for not helping you, for not seeing that you needed it. I'm sorry you couldn't come to me."

He could feel his body shuddering with the weight of his grief, for Bradley, for the relationship that hadn't survived between him and Ronnie, for the baby that was never theirs. Jack wept for them all. His lips remaining on Ronnie's face as he clung onto her frail body.

Minutes passed, Jack's cries suddenly halted as he felt Ronnie's hand creep out from under his and tenderly cup his neck. "It's not you," she whispered. "It's him. He took something. He took something and I can't . . . get it back."

Jack resisted the urge to pull away from the contact so that he was able to look at her properly. He wanted to stay this way forever, the two of them simply holding onto each other.

"What are we talking about here, Ron?" He asked, attempting to press her for more detail.

Jack heard the hollow smile in her voice.

"Nothing. . . It's nothing."


	17. Chapter 17

Jack lay next to Ronnie on the hospital bed, his arms circling her shoulders and hugging her delicate form to his in an attempt to protect her from anything the world threw at her. Anything at all.

He felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, hoping and praying that her dreams were full of nothing. No memories, no nightmares. Nothing. He wanted to protect her from that. He wanted to protect her from herself.

Closing his eyes, a seemingly random thought passed through Jack's mind. Unpredictably, his stomach turned over, making him feel nauseas.

_She had taken him to the club, made him sit at the bar and poured him a glass of whisky. And now, now she was sitting opposite him, holding onto his hands more tightly than he had ever felt before. Tighter than when Selena had been giving birth to Penny. Much together._

_It was pitch black, the darkness shrouding the two of them like a second skin._

_Ronnie hadn't turned on the lights._

_And Jack hadn't asked her to._

_It was better this way. In the darkness. It was better._

_Jack looked at their entwined hands, his eyes beginning to adjust to the lack of light and a few moments later he was able to make out the edges of Ronnie's slender fingers and their tense grip on his. _

_"I need to find Max and Stacey," he whispered. His mind was so foggy, as though each thought had to wade through a pit of quicksand before his mouth could turn it into a spoken word. "I should find them."_

_Ronnie nodded her head, he heard the slight swish of her hair against the shoulders of her black jacket. But he couldn't look up. He had to stay looking at their hands. Something solid. Something real. Something he could feel and touch. _

_"I need to go . . ." he murmured._

_He wanted to get up, to move upwards from his seat, but his body was so heavy. _

_"Okay," Ronnie replied. "But just stay here for a minute. Stay with me for a minute," she whispered._

_Jack didn't say anything, he didn't need to. She knew he'd stay. Even if it was only for a moment. His body sagged with the weight of what he had witnessed. His stomach lurched as Bradley's body was flung from the roof._

_Jack clamped his eyelids shut, desperately needing the darkness to infiltrate his mind, shut out everything that was filling it at that moment, drown out the horrific images that were flooding through it. _

_Abruptly, he pulled his hands away from Ronnie's and put them to the side of his head. The tips of his fingers dug into his skin, pressing harder and harder until several stinging sensations could be felt along his forehead. _

_"Stop, okay, stop, stop it," Ronnie pleaded with him, getting up from her seat and grabbing hold of Jack's curled hands. She forcefully clung onto them and moved them away from his face. "Stop it," she urged him, her face millimetres from his, their foreheads almost touching. "Stop."_

_"He's dead. Bradley's . . . " Jack looked into Ronnie's face, his warm brown eyes pleading with her to correct his statement, to contradict him, to tell him he was wrong._

_But she couldn't do that. She couldn't._

_So she nodded._

"I lied before, Ron," Jack whispered into Ronnie's hair. "I lied when I said you weren't there for me. You were, every day – in one way or another, you were. I just couldn't see that. I'm so sorry, darling. I promise you, I'll always see from now on. I'll always see and I'll always be here – whether you want me or not, I'm here. I always will be."

Ronnie swallowed the painful lump that had formed in her throat. She opened her mouth and was surprised to hear her voice sound so raw and raspy.

"My dad," she began, cautiously. "He always said that everything he did was for me, to make my life better, to give me a better chance. Everything he did . . . he did because he loved me. And I wish . . . I _wish_ . . . he loved me less."

Hours passed as Jack lay beside Ronnie, his arms around her, trying in vain to protect her from the past. It was like trying to cup water in his hands, pointless. Because no matter what he did, the pain still bled between his fingers.

Ronnie had been sleeping for the briefest of periods, even with all of the painkillers and sedatives she had been given, it was as though her mind wouldn't let her rest. It refused to let her be at peace, even for a few blissful hours.

Using the side of his thumb, her traced circles across the back of Ronnie's hand; gentle, delicate circles. It seemed to comfort her. He remembered how she had watched her do it to Amy a few months ago when she wouldn't settle, Ronnie had simply taken the infant from Jack's arms and cuddled her. She had kissed her forehead and rocked her, singing lullabies in hushed tones so that only she and Amy could hear, and her thumb had skimmed across the baby soft skin of the little girl's chubby hand.

Jack closed his eyes, feeling tears well in them.

"Jack?" Ronnie called out his name, her voice thick with tiredness.

"I'm here," he whispered.

"Okay," she said softly, her taut muscles relaxing once again.

_I'm here, Ron. Even though seeing you in pain is making it hard to breathe, I'm here for you. I'm here. I always will be._

"Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you still love me?"

_Ronnie sat beside Stacey on Arthur's Bench, the cold wood creating grooves in the back of her legs. She turned to face the young girl, the one that had provided her daughter with a home and a friend. The girl that had been there for Danielle since the moment she stepped foot in Walford. _

_Although she and Stacey might not see eye to eye on a lot of things, Ronnie would forever be indebted to her. She took care of her little girl when Ronnie couldn't. _

_"It's late," Ronnie stated, unsure of what to say to Stacey._

_"I know," Stacey replied, her arms winding around her stomach, around the life that was growing inside of her. "I just, I can't . . . not yet."_

_Ronnie nodded. She understood._

_Stacey had just buried her husband, the love of her life._

_Ronnie understood only too well. Ten months ago she had buried her daughter._

_"Go on, I know you think it – why not just say it?" The venom slithered along Stacey's words, tingeing them with an anger Ronnie hadn't heard before. _

_"What?" She asked, confused._

_"About Bradley, your dad."_

_Immediately, Ronnie faced forwards again, no longer able to look at the grieving widow. _

_"I don't care what Peggy says, he was a bad man, he was a bad man and he deserved it. He deserved everything that he got, everything and more and Bradley didn't. He was good, a **good** man and all he wanted to do was love me and my baby, that's all. He just wanted to love us and protect us, he was a good man and Archie was scum. He was evil and-"_

_Ronnie clasped hold of Stacey's freezing hand and held it in her own. The action surprised the girl so much, she stopped speaking. _

_"Shh," Ronnie hushed, soothing the hysterical tone in Stacey's voice. "He was. He was a bad man. And . . ." She trailed off, pausing for a moment, still facing forwards and looking out into the darkness that shrouded the Square. "And if I could meet the person that did what they did, if I could meet them . . . I'd say 'thank you'."_

_"What?" Stacey's brows furrowed and even though she wanted to twist her body and look at Ronnie, she didn't. They just stared in front of themselves, their hands linked._

_"Archie Mitchell was a bad man. . . I'd say 'thank you'," Ronnie repeated before letting go of Stacey's hand._

Jack opened his eyes, shocked to the core by Ronnie's question. "You know that I do . . . I never stopped. You know that."

Slowly, Ronnie nodded. "Yes." She swallowed the painful lump in her throat, before continuing. "I think you were right, Jack."

"What?"

"I think I'm broken-"

"No, no!" He insisted, his voice forceful and booming.

"What other explanation is there?"

Jack's chest heaved with emotion, a boa constrictor had wrapped itself around his upper body and was squeezing and squeezing until there was no breath left within him. _Did I do this? Is what I said to her responsible for this? For her being here? Am I the reason she did this?_

"Ronnie, what I said I was angry and hurt and-"

"To teach me a lesson – isn't that what he said?" Ronnie mused, her thoughts jumbled and not completely coherent. "He took Danielle away to teach me a lesson. What lesson could that be? . . . I wasn't allowed to love anyone else. To _be_ anything else . . ." She murmured, trying to make sense of the tangled chains of thoughts in her head.

_Archie. This is about him. He did this. He did this to her._

"Ron?" Jack tried to interject, but it was as though Ronnie was somewhere else, somewhere far away where he couldn't quite reach.

"I'm barely breathing," she whispered, her eyelids almost closing once more.

"I know," Jack replied, cuddling her closer to him and grazing his lips against her forehead.

"You don't." The sadness in her voice reverberated through the hospital room, bouncing off the walls and into the chambers of Jack's heart.

She was right. He didn't know. He didn't have a clue.

"Jack? . . . Can you get Roxy in here?"

"Erm, sure," he said, hesitantly.

"I need to speak to her."

"Yeah."

"I need to. . . I want to be here . . . with you. I want to be here, loving you. But I need to be fixed first."

Leaning across her, Jack looked into Ronnie's face, his vision blurring as his tears were reflected in her blue pools. She wanted to be here. She hadn't meant for this to happen. Is that what she was saying?

"You want to be here?" Jack asked, a hesitancy in his words. "With me?"

Ronnie nodded, and even though her arm felt as heavy as a boulder, she lifted it to gently caress Jack's stubbled cheek. "Yes," she told him, wishing that he would always look at her in the way that he was in that moment. "Yes, I want that. I want you."

Jack leaned down, his forehead touching hers, as soft teardrops fell from his closed eyes and delicately splashed onto Ronnie's cheeks.

"It'll take time," she murmured, her hand dropping to the back of his neck.

"I'll wait," Jack whispered.

"I don't know how long-"

"I'll wait. . . I've waited my whole life for you, Ronnie - I'll wait for as long as it takes . . . I'll wait."

**THE END**


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